


Cosmic Dust

by Agapostemon



Series: Cardboard Castles [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But don't examine the science too closely, But he's doing his very best, Caffeine Addiction, Friendship, Gen, Greening the Cube: The AU, Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Motorcycles, POV Keith (Voltron), References to Alan Turing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Everything he’d been feeling before dissolves as soon as they’re in motion. Awkwardness and frustration melt away into pure, unadulteratedecstasy. The wind rustles his clothes around him, light and fluttery like feathers on his skin. The all-consuming roar of the motor reverberates through his bones. He can feel the movement deep within his core. Pidge’s delighted whoop registers faintly in his ears and blends with his own joy.This. This is the feeling Keith lives for.This is more than just the constant buzz of caffeinated almost-happiness.This isbliss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Cursing, risky/mildly self-destructive behavior
> 
> This takes place during the year between [If the Sky Comes Falling Cown](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9614165/chapters/21720008) and [Fill Me In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9512381/chapters/21514565). It's also loosely inspired by S2:E4 (Greening the Cube). It doesn't contain any season 2 spoilers, but it'll probably still be more fun to read if you've seen the episode in question.
> 
> An anon on Tumblr wanted to see more Keith coping mechanisms (good and bad) + caffeinated Keith in this AU, and I was delighted to oblige! My Voltron blog is [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/), by the way, and you're absolutely welcome to chat with me or send me Voltron-related writing prompts.
> 
> Character Ages for Reference:  
> Shiro - 28  
> Matt - 26  
> Keith - 19  
> Pidge - 17  
> Holt Parents - Old enough to parent Matt & Pidge

By the time Shiro emerges from his room for lunch, Keith is already on his third mug of coffee. It’s blonde roast for the extra caffeine, even though he vastly prefers the harsh flavor of dark roast coffee. The constant hum of the caffeine in his veins lends him a strange sort of lightheaded clarity. It drowns out some of the hollow feeling he’s had since being expelled from Caltech last month. (Or, if he’s being honest, since before he was expelled from Caltech.) This way he can just _go_. Never really thinking about the past or the future. It’s almost like the mindfulness bullshit Shiro keeps trying to dump on him, except this actually _works_.

Unfortunately, he drinks so much caffeine to begin with that it takes a rather exorbitant amount to maintain the desired level of wired clarity.

Shiro seems less than thrilled with this development. “How much coffee have you had, today?” he asks, pausing to frown down at his brother.

“Enough,” replies Keith curtly.

Shiro’s frown deepens, “I think we need to get you out of the house, buddy. I’m going over to help the Holts with some yardwork this afternoon. You wanna come with?”

Keith shrugs, “I guess.” It’s a nice day. Keith is bored. Pidge isn’t half-bad as far as company goes. Why not? He does have one stipulation, though, “I’m taking my bike, though. The weather’s too nice not to.”

Shiro looks a little surprised at the instant cooperation, but he recovers quickly, “Good call. We’ll head over after lunch. What do you want on your sandwich?”

Keith thinks he’d rather skip lunch altogether—food always seems to dull the effects of the caffeine—but he knows Shiro won’t let that fly. So he asks for turkey and spicy mayo before downing the rest of his coffee and strolling over to grab a Red Bull for the road.

Shiro shakes his head, “You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep drinking this much caffeine, kiddo.”

“So?” Keith responds defiantly before realizing that might not be the response his brother wanted to hear.

Shiro shoots him one last worried look before setting to work putting together their sandwiches.

\-----------

It takes no time at all for “yardwork” to devolve into “mulch fight at the Holt residence.”

Matt started it. He tried to fling a fistful of mulch at Shiro, but most of it hit Keith instead. Which, of course, meant war.

So Keith retaliates with a much-better-aimed shot of his own, splattering mulch all over Matt’s shirt. The victory is short-lived, though, because Colleen immediately sneaks up behind Keith and dumps a shovel full of mulch over his head with a gleeful cackle, “You mulch my baby and I mulch you!”

And then all-out chaos erupts as Sam and Shiro join the fray. Mulch flies everywhere. Laughter fills the yard. Gunther the bull terrier chases them around with his tail wagging. Pidge occasionally looks up from her phone on the porch to cheer on whoever she deems to be the underdog at that moment in time. (Matt hit his sister with exactly one fistful of mulch before they all collectively decided never to try that again.)

Keith has to stop periodically to spit out mouthfuls of wood and dirt. His eyes are dry from all the dust in them, but he persists.

“Keith, look ou—” Shiro starts to warn, but Matt cuts him off by tackling him into the giant mulch pile in the driveway.

Keith’s laughter is swiftly interrupted when Sam sneaks up and pours mulch down the back of his shirt. He reflexively elbows backwards, narrowly missing his assailant.

“No playing dirty, Keith!” Shiro reprimands from the mulch pile, where Matt is sitting on his torso and vigorously rubbing mulch into his shirt, “Elbows aren’t a legal mulch fight weapon.”

Sam cackles, “I think playing dirty is kind of the point! But yes, please keep your elbows to yourself.”

Rage flashes through Keith. He’s pretty sure it’s not a rational thing to be feeling, but agitation crackles through his nerves like electricity and he needs to leave. He needs to leave or he’s going to hurt someone. So he cracks his knuckles and says something about being thirsty and excuses himself to the house, not even bothering to take off his shoes or shake the mulch out of his hair and clothes before walking through the door.

\-----------

A couple minutes later, Pidge finds Keith in the kitchen with his back pressed against a wall and his teeth clenched. He’s pounding the heal of his hand against his knee in a steady rhythm, hard enough to bruise. He should probably be embarrassed to be seen like this, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“What’s up with you?” Pidge asks. The sharpness in her voice puts him at ease, oddly enough.

He sucks air in through his teeth and growls, “I’m trying to cool down enough to get on my bike.”

To his relief, she doesn’t ask what he’s trying to calm down _from_. She just hops up onto the nearest counter, legs swinging, and says, “Oh, cool. I’ve always thought motorcycles sounded pretty fun. I doubt I’d be great at driving one, though. I’m not sure I’d even be tall enough.”

Keith relaxes his posture and stills his hand as Pidge talks. “Heh, they are pretty fun,” he says, “’Specially once you get off the main roads. Something about being in constant motion, no sign of civilization in sight.”

Pidge wrinkles her nose, “Ew, the outdoors. I hate the outdoors. Nothing but sunburn and allergies.”

Keith cocks a small smile, “I like the outdoors. It’s quiet.”

“Nothing is quiet when you’re on a motorcycle,” Pidge retorts.

“You know what I mean,” Keith says.

“Show me,” Pidge responds, like it’s a dare.

Keith blinks, “Show you?”

“Yeah. Take me on your motorcycle. Show me,” she says with a devious grin.

This catches Keith off-guard. He’s never had a passenger on his bike before, and now is probably not the best time for trying new things of a social nature, but… fuck it.

“Challenge accepted,” he matches her devious grin.

“Seriously?” Pidge looks positively giddy, hopping off the counter and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Keith shrugs, “Yeah, sure. Long as we can find you a helmet. Not that I care, but… I doubt our families will let us out of the driveway without helmets on.”

“That won’t be hard,” says Pidge, “My family’s garage is like some kind of junk nebula.”

\-----------

It takes them almost half an hour to locate a serviceable helmet for Pidge, but they eventually succeed. They gather together some snacks, water and energy drinks for their adventure, then head out to breach their plan to their families.

Keith decides to just rip off the metaphorical bandage. He simply strolls out the front door, Pidge at his heels, and announces matter-of-factly, “I’m taking Pidge for a ride. We’ll be back later.” He waves and heads for his bike as if the matter is already settled.

Sam and Shiro exchange a meaningful look, then Sam calls after them, “Alright, have fun and stay safe! Love you, Katie.”

Colleen echoes the sentiment. Matt supplies a double thumbs-up and Shiro adds, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Keith spins around to give them a sloppy salute, and Pidge flutters her hands at her family before pulling on her more-or-less-the-right-size helmet, looking to Keith for further instruction.

Keith had almost forgotten about the mulch fight until he pulls on his own helmet and realizes he still has a generous amount of mulch in his hair. He grimaces and makes a mental note to remove his helmet as soon as he’s out of Shiro’s range. Then he turns to Pidge, “Okay, basically you just… hop up behind me and hold on tight.”

“Hold onto what?” she asks incredulously.

Oh. He hadn’t thought this though very well. “Uh… me.”

“Oh,” she replies stiffly.

Keith hops onto his bike and looks down at Pidge as if daring her to back down.

She doesn’t.

It takes her a few tries to get onto the bike, but eventually she gets situated behind Keith and tentatively wraps her arms around his torso.

“You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that,” he says, “Unless you wanna go flying 30 seconds into the ride.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, then her grip tightens around him.

“You ready?” he asks.

“I was born ready!” she responds.

Keith rolls his eyes and hits the ignition. The bike roars to life and a cocky grin immediately spreads across his face.

Everything he’d been feeling before dissolves as soon as they’re in motion. Awkwardness and frustration melt away into pure, unadulterated _ecstasy_. The wind rustles his clothes around him, light and fluttery like feathers on his skin. The all-consuming roar of the motor reverberates through his bones. He can feel the movement deep within his core. Pidge’s delighted whoop registers faintly in his ears and blends with his own joy.

This. This is the feeling Keith lives for.

This is more than just the constant buzz of caffeinated almost-happiness.

This is _bliss_.

And he’s not even out of the city, yet.

\-----------

Once they do reach the edge of town, Keith stops his bike on the side of the empty desert road and takes his helmet off, shaking his head off like a wet dog and spraying mulch shrapnel everywhere. Pidge makes a face and Keith makes one right back at her, silently daring her to question his decision.

She shrugs and takes off her own helmet, “If you get us killed, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Duly noted,” he says with a smirk.

They stash their helmets in the back of the bike and hop back on.

“So are we just gonna… drive around the desert?” asks Pidge.

“Yup,” Keith says with a grin as he fires the bike back up.

This time they don’t have traffic lights or four-way stops to hold them back. With so little traffic, the speed limits are more like loose guidelines than actual rules. So he ignores them. (The first time they pass a speed limit sign outside the city limits, Pidge yells in his ear and points at the speedometer. He ignores her, too.)

Without his helmet, he can feel his hair whipping around his face. Something about the wind in his hair lights a fire in his gut. He leans forward on his bike to accentuate the effect, letting the rumble of the bike fill every part of him until there’s nothing left except speed. Everything is loud and quiet all at once and he feels like he’s taking flight every time he whips around a corner.

But he needs to pee.

With an irritated huff, he pulls over to the side of the road again.

Pidge releases her death grip, “Why’re we stopping?”

“Because fuck bladders,” Keith growls.

Pidge laughs and climbs down from the bike, her legs wobbly beneath her, “Didn’t you pee right before we left?”

“Shut up,” he retorts less-than-eloquently as he hops off the bike.

“Have you considered that this might have something to do with your caffeine intake?” she says, crossing her arms smugly.

Keith shoots her a glare, “You’re the one who insisted we pack Monster for the road.”

“Takes one to know one,” Pidge says, then asks, “How much caffeine _have_ you consumed today, anyways?”

“Three mugs of coffee, a Red Bull and a Monster?” Keith says, then grimaces, “Hold that thought.” With that, he jogs off and ducks behind the nearest rock formation.

Pidge is waiting for him when he reemerges, somehow looking even more smug than before.

“According to my admittedly rough calculations, you’ve had over 1000mg of caffeine in under 12 hours,” she says, “which is more than twice the recommended daily caffeine intake for a healthy adult.”

“So?” Keith says flippantly.

Pidge shrugs, “I’m just presenting you with data. You can do with it as you please.”

“Hasn’t killed me yet,” he says, hopping back onto his bike.

“Seriously, though,” says Pidge, climbing up behind him and wrapping her arms around his chest, “You make my brother’s caffeine intake seem almost reasonable. Almost.”

Keith just ignores her and starts his bike back up. Before long, he’s lost in the momentum and the blur of red rocks all around him. He doesn’t really have a direction or a destination in mind. He usually just lets himself get lost in the desert and then uses his phone GPS to find his way back. It’s more fun that way.

A few times he’s run out of gas in the middle of the desert and had to call Shiro for a rescue, but hey—no risk, no reward, right?

Pidge doesn’t seem to share his outlook. The next time they stop for water, she asks him where they are.

He shrugs, “The desert.”

“Wait, you don’t _know?!_ ” she asks, eyes widening in what might be panic.

“I’ll look it up when we’re ready to go home,” he says as he takes a swig of his water (because even he knows better than to drink nothing but energy drinks when biking through the desert).

“Oh my god!” Pidge screeches, pulling out her phone, “You got us lost! On purpose! Unbelievable.”

“Calm down. I know what I’m doing,” Keith assures.

“Oh yeah?” Pidge huffs, “What if you get lost somewhere with no cell service? What if your phone runs out of batteries? Did you even bring a portable charger? I doubt it!”

“Pidge, it’ll be fine,” he insists, not even bothering to address her individual points of concern, “I’m supposed to be showing you what I do to relax, remember?”

“This isn’t relaxing! This is reckless and irresponsible!” Pidge complains, “Also, I think I’m getting a sunburn _through my sunscreen_.”

“Sooo what I’m hearing here is ‘it’s time to take Pidge off-road,’” Keith says with a smirk.

“Is this thing even safe off-road?!” Pidge asks, stooping down to anxiously inspect the bike.

“Yeah, I’ve taken it off road tons of times,” he replies casually, leaning over Pidge to put away his half-empty water bottle, “It’s not exactly an off road model, so it won’t be the smoothest ride. But I did some basic customization to make it at least usable off-road.”

“Wait, you actually modified your motorcycle for off-road use?” Pidge’s voice switches from skepticism to awe.

Keith just shrugs like it’s nothing.

“Okay,” Pidge stands up with a twinkle in her eye, “Show me what you’ve got. But know that I’m only agreeing to this because we’ve got two phones and a backup charger between us.”

Keith just grins and gets back on his bike, “Okay, hop on.”

\-----------

Their off-road adventure eventually brings them to a huge rock overhang in the middle of the desert. Keith pulls to a stop at the base and grins back at Pidge.

“Why’re we stopping this time?” she asks.

“We’re going for a hike,” Keith responds matter-of-factly.

“Gross,” Pidge wrinkles her nose, “Pretty sure I didn’t sign up for a hike.”

“It’s not a long hike,” he assures her, “Just to the top of that overhang.” He points.

She grimaces, “ _Why?_ ”

He shrugs, “So we can see the view. I think we’re just in time for the sunset.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen a sunset before,” Pidge argues.

“Just trust me,” Keith says, “It’ll be worth it.”

Pidge begrudgingly obliges, climbing off the bike and gathering together their snacks and drinks for the short journey.

\-----------

The hike up isn’t too bad. About halfway up Keith starts to wish he’d consumed more than caffeinated beverages and a single sandwich that day, but splitting a granola bar with Pidge helps.

They make it to the top just as the sun is nearing the horizon, threatening to set at any moment. Keith smiles, “Perfect timing.”

He sits down with his legs hanging off the ledge and pats the spot beside him for Pidge to join. She does, though she sits cross-legged with a few inches between herself and the edge. They crack open a can of Monster and share it between them as color bleeds into the sky around them, casting shadows across the desert below.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t cool,” Keith challenges softly as Pidge passes him the can.

Pidge shrugs, “Okay, it’s not bad. But I still think the motorcycle part of this adventure was way cooler.”

“How so?” asks Keith, passing the drink back to her.

“I mean, think about it,” says Pidge, “A billion sunsets just happen every day, all over the universe. But think about how much engineering expertise went into building your motorcycle. Heck, you know that better than anyone: you built parts of it yourself!”

Keith frowns thoughtfully, “Yeah, but is it really all that different? Engineering’s just a bunch of patterns and shit, right? But there are patterns in nature, too.”

“What, like Turing patterns?” asks Pidge.

“I dunno,” Keith shrugs, altogether uncertain what a Turing pattern even is, “Just… patterns. DNA, shell spirals, the rotation of the earth. Patterns.”

“Huh. I never thought of it that way,” Pidge’s tone is laced with something almost reverent, “I mean, I know all about Turing patterns. I’ve read all of Turing’s work, _obviously_. It's not like I live in the Stone Age. But I guess it never occurred to me to think of natural systems the same way I think about tech.”

Keith isn’t sure he follows what Pidge is saying, so he just muses, “You ever think about the fact that everything had to start somewhere?”

“Well, yeah,” Pidge says, “I’m a scientist. _And_ my family’s Jewish. It kinda comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, but do you ever _really_ think about it?” Keith says, “About how connected everything is? It’s weird. Sometimes when I’m out here in the desert, I think so hard about it that everything stops feeling real. Everything just sorta swirls together until I’m not sure where I end and the rest of the universe begins.”

“Huh,” Pidge says, “Yeah. It’s kinda cool to think about. How we’re all made out of the same cosmic dust.”

“Yeah,” Keith repeats reverently, staring up at the rapidly-darkening sky, “The same cosmic dust. I like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Keith "I hate mindfulness but I love mindfully riding my motorcycle" Kogane
> 
> By the way: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


End file.
